


Blown Away

by Silverdart



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cultural Differences, Food Issues, Harpyformers, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Relying on Nature, flock dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 11:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7313887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverdart/pseuds/Silverdart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the flock of Crystal Cove is threatened by the vultures of the West, Drift and Wing must head north in search of new fishing grounds for their flock. As they make a grave mistake, and Drift is lost in a powerful storm, he will realize that his sheltered life in Crystal Cove is not how all harpies live. Not all flocks are as peaceful, or as welcoming as his, but to survive alone he has to learn to adapt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blown Away

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a real big fan of the merformers au that's going around right now, and I've always like the mythical creatures au's that I see pop up every once in a while. Here's my short take on harpyformers, hope you guys enjoy! :)

The breeze blew gently across the short grasses sprouting between the rocks at Drift’s feet, drowned out by the dull roar of the coast’s crashing waves below him. The tide was high, the sky bearing few clouds, spray from the sea dampening his ruffled feathers. Drift grumbled sleepily and spread his tawny wings in a stretch, curling and uncurling his fingers to work the tingles out of his four-clawed hands.  
A short chirrup drew his attention above him and the Brahminy Kite answered with his own morning whistle. Drift gave Wing a small smile, arching an eye-ridge at the other kite-harpy hanging upside down over the opening of his nest. Drift’s burrow in the cliffside of Crystal Cove was low in the bleached rock, driving Drift to join Wing every now and again during cyclone months to keep dry while his burrow flooded over from high waves.  
“Morning Drift! Did you have pleasant night visions?” Wing asked, flipping himself down to perch on the damp rock before Drift. The kite stood slightly taller than Drift, white and grey spotted feathers quivering in the wind.  
“Morning, no visions last night on my end. You?” Drift smoothed the down on his chest as Wing shook his head, crest swishing behind him.  
He was a far cry from the scrawny youngling that had helped drag Drift from the surf many suns before, eyes widening with wonder at the prospect of a new flock mate his age. Drift had awoken that day near-drowned and starving, claiming to have forgotten where he was and who his hatch-flock were. All he could remember was a flash of lightning, the gleam of light off of battle claws, and a splash of red across his white chest. The clan reasoned he must have been from the smaller Rodion flock further north of the coastline, a flock that by all reports had been exterminated by the vultures of the west moving in on their territory.  
Drift was coast-bred through and through. It took many generations of careful crossbreeding for the Kite Breed to develop waterproof down, as they originally dominated the grasslands. He adapted quickly to the honor-bound and tight nit community Wing’s flock offered, despite a rebellious streak holding out at the beginning. He was taught how to smell rain on the wind from Elder Axe, shown how to care for armour and sharpen battle claws by Master Dai Atlas, and learned the importance of bonds alongside Wing. Time passed and the two became excellent fishers. Drift had developed quite the skill for snapping up herring buffeted by the tides, while Wing preferred diving for the deeper rays that rested between ridges protected from the current.  
“Have you had breakfast yet?” Drift asked, stepping out to the edge of his hole.  
Wing tensed his legs before launching into the air, wings batting in quick circles to hover shakily. “Not yet, I was waiting for your sleepy tail to get out of the nest. Master Atlas was spreading word about an hour ago, we need to go see the Elders once we’ve eaten. There have been whispers among flock mates that the vultures may be moving closer to the coastline. I’m worried what will follow should Master Atlas decide they are acting too bold.”  
Drift’s tail curved and thighs tucked close to his belly as he joined his amica in the air. The two flew low over the water’s surface, blue eyes sharply scanning its depths for a flash of scales. Their hunt took them well into the morning, the usually teeming shallows near barren save a few small schools of anchovies not worth the effort to catch. Eventually Wing had snagged a couple of Bluefins and Drift settled with a bitter Sand Perch. They settled on a small outcropping of rock not far from their territory’s beaches, using their wing-claws to skin their catches and pick out sharp bones. Once done, they cast the scraps back into the ocean, where they would feed the smaller creatures and return to the ecosystem of the Rust Sea.  
They weaved and dipped around each other with amused squawks, arriving shortly after to the plateaus of the cliff, small yellow flowers and thin grasses sprouting in thin soil. They landed not far from a larger group of Eagles, Kites, and Falcons, feathers shimmering in various shades of white, red, brown, and grey tones streaking their wings. At the head of the group rested the Elders, the most experienced fishers, defenders, and teachers the flock could offer.  
Flock Master Dai Atlas and his mate Axe, both possessing unusually dark feathers that spoke of a hatch-flock far from the safety of the coast, spoke in quiet twitters and clicks. Wing glanced confusedly at Drift, who shrugged his shoulders; the two were locked deep in what seemed to be a private but heated argument. Axe’s primaries flared and he scowled, crossing his wings across his chest and sighing heavily. Atlas ran his claws across his back before letting out a sharp call to the flock. They eagerly shuffled into a circle and sat on gathered driftwood and smoothed out rock slabs that served as their congregation space.  
The flock lowered their heads and flattened their crests, sitting for a moment in silence to listen together to the winds and roll of the sea. Their each gave their personal morning prayer to the Skies Above before raising their heads and watching their Flock Master closely.  
“Greetings flock mates, may the Skies Above lift the winds beneath your wings.” Dai Atlas rumbled. “It has not escaped our notice that there are rumors spreading throughout the flock that the vultures have been spotted lurking near our borders. We will now confirm that yes, scouts have been monitoring our Western neighbors closely and have noticed more activity than typical this time of year.”  
Quiet murmuring spread between harpies before Axe whistled sharply for quiet.  
“This unusual behavior, coupled with the dangerously sparse spawning of the fish this season, has let the Elders and I to discuss the real possibility that the vultures of the West may discover our shortages and lead a full scale assault on Crystal Cove.” He raised a wing to silence the short onslaught of shock and distress from his flock. “This is by no means certain, they have yet to actually cross our borders. But we must be ready to face the trials before us, whatever the outcome. As such, you all will be assigned additional tasks, be it fish to stock our stores or scout out new fishing grounds in the event we must move the nests. Please speak with Elder Exe or any of the others to receive your tasks, those in the Kite breed will come directly to me. Do not fall into despair, nothing in set in stone. But we must be ready. You are dismissed, may the Skies Above keep you.”  
The flock slowly dispersed, the adults approaching the Elders to receive their duties. Wing and Drift collected in a small group with four others before Dai Atlas.  
“You are the fastest and most agile of the flock,” Atlas began. “We already have the Falcons on scouting, but you should know that with the numbers they have been reporting it is becoming more and more likely that we won’t survive a battle. We are warriors, but their flock outnumbers ours five to one, and I will not risk the younglings.” He sighed deeply, looking off into the sea with a frown. “The seas aren’t as fruitful here as they used to be. The human trade routes have been driving spawns further and further north to avoid over fishing. We are not sure how much longer this territory will be enough to feed us. Thus, new fishing grounds are critical. “  
He gestured to a pair next to Wing and Drift. “Oracle and Lightwing, you will search the northeast kelp forests. Trickshot, Turnabout, you will explore the rivers in the southeast. There are reports that the river fish there have grown enough in numbers to support our flock for a short while if it comes to that.” The four Kites nodded and took to the air, heading off in different directions. Atlas turned to the remaining two, rising to stand on powerful legs.  
“As for you two, I want you to scout the coral reefs of the northern coasts. It is a long journey, but we know that warm waters can bring large game that congregate at the reefs. Every year the whales head north, there must be a reason why. We must know that the journey would be worth while, and the coves of the north would send us the furthest from the vultures. Remember what we’ve taught you, the journey will be harder and longer than the others. I’ll give you the rest of the morning to prepare, but you must soar north by noon.” Atlas nodded as the two bowed in submission to the Elders’ wishes.  
Without a word the two retreated to their carved out burrows, collecting dried fish and freshwater in slings made from whale skin. As Drift clipped the last strap across his chest, he caught sight of the worn battle-claws resting worn on a driftwood shelf. He hesitated, reaching a claw out to take them before drawing back. No, they would just weight him down. His own talons would be sharp enough for whatever they faced.  
He climbed the handholds on the cliff face to the edge of Wing’s burrow and called “You ready yet?”  
“Hold on… Yep! Ready to go!” Wing hopped his way to the Drift, bouncing on his talons and swishing his tail with a huge grin. “Ohhh I’m so excited! Our first scouting mission together, and so far! We’ll see so much, maybe we’ll meet an Albatross on the way! Or maybe-“  
“Wing!” Drift huffed, exasperated. “Stop talking about it, let’s just go already!” Drift kicked off the cliff and propelled himself up into the clouds, Wing trailing close behind as they directed themselves north and set off deeper inland. 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~

Their rations of fish lasted them a few days as they flew from dawn until dusk, stopping to refill their pouches at freshwater streams as short grasslands steadily grew into thin forests and eventual valleys. They eased their exhausted muscles pressing into each other for warmth and preening their partner’s feathers for comfort. When the trees grew large enough they moved from the ground to roosting in the branches, happy to be safe from predators and smugglers on the ground. They took time every afternoon to scour the area for food, fishing in rivers when possible but eventually trying their hand at rabbits and small deer. They quickly decided they hated the way mammals squealed when caught, hated the clear pain in their eyes. Killing fish was easier, Wing wouldn’t miss the forests once they reached the northern coasts.  
After a fortnight of flying, Drift caught the faint scent of saltwater on the wind, and sent a triumphant, fanged grin up to Wing who flew slightly ahead. The other Kite must have smelt the salt too, and met his smile with his own blinding smile.  
“Hey Drift..”  
“Yeah Wing?”  
“Last one there catches dinner!” With that he pumped his powerful wings and shot ahead, laugh trailing behind him. Drift smirked and propelled himself forward, slowly gaining on his amica, close enough to nip at his tail feathers. Wing squeaked and Drift got a clawed foot to the face, falling back a few dozen meters.  
“That’s cheating!” Wing cried.  
The two raced towards the scent of the sea, trading positions every once in a while. In the end it was Wing’s slightly longer wingspan that earning him first place to cross the northern coast line. He crowed in victory and the two spiralled down to land on the soft sand of a winding beach.  
Wing grinned widely. “Eating too many herring lately, amica? You’re so slow I could have sworn you were a stork!” He teased.  
“You shut your dirty mouth Wing or we’ll both starve tonight.” Drift retorted, sharp tone not reaching the crinkling of his eyes from a smirk. He playfully shoved Wong with a chuckle, bracing himself as Wing leaned heavily on his back.  
“Drrrriiiffttt!” he groaned. “So hungry! I’m starving! I’m gunna die on this beach, starved by his own amica!”  
“What a tragedy.” Drift snorted, rolling his bright blue eyes. Wing whined pitifully and sank slowly into the warm sand.  
“You’re going to be the one picking all this sand from my feathers later, amica. Better hurry or I might just have to roll around a bit.”  
“You’re such a youngling.”  
“So?”  
Drift snickered, shaking his head before unloading his sling. His wings throbbed angrily, and he wadded off into the shallow pools not far from where Wing collected driftwood and seaweed to build a temporary nest. Drift bent over every time he came across a skittering scarlet crab, picking off a few colourful fish that caught his eye along the way. He left the snails alone, grinning when he came across an overturned sea turtle trying desperately to flip itself over. Though his wings protested, the meat of the turtle was worth the short flight back to camp, the reptile held firmly in his clawed feet.  
By the time he returned, Wing had weaved together a thin bedding of rubbery seaweed and draped it across boards of wood much like the flat slabs of rock back at Crystal Cove. Drift eased himself down, setting the turtle on the sand and watched as Wing said a blessing before quickly snapping its neck with his powerful talons. Together they watched as the sun slowly set on the horizon of the sea, picking apart the turtle and scooping its meat from its shell.  
“Wow, that looks amazing.” Wing said quietly. Drift hummed in agreement, chewing the meat from one of the crabs he had torn apart.  
Wing looked down and sneakily raked through Drift’s sling, withdrawing vibrant, skinny orange fish from the bottom.  
“Drift, what is this?” Wing asked, gently petting the scales.  
Drift looked over. “I have no idea, but it looked pretty. You don’t see colours like this very often in Crystal Cove, I thought maybe it would be an interesting first snack for us to share. If it looks so different it must taste different from the schools back home, don’t you think?”  
Wing looked down at the dead fish with interest. He expertly wormed his claws beneath the fish’s skin and tore in in half, juices streaking his wrist feathers.  
“Frag!” he swore, licking at the yellow stains. He huffed, annoyed, then offered the top half of the exotic fish to Drift. The Brahminy accepted the fish, and raised it to take a small nibble. The other leaned forward.  
“Well?” He asked.  
Drift let the taste sink in, a certain sweetness he could only compare to a rare puffer fish a rogue trader had swapped for the Cove’s shells. He hummed, taking another bite.  
“It’s good! Try it, its really… different, I guess.”  
Intrigued, Wing took his own nibble of the tail before chirping in surprise. Needless to say, his half didn’t take long to disappear and its fluid licked off Wing’s claws. He twittered happily, scooting over to cuddle up next to Drift and fluff up his feathers until he resembled a dandelion more than a harpy.  
Drift yawned, drawing his legs up to his chest to wrap his wings around himself like a cloak. The sky turned orange and the waves died down to steady rolls. Drifts squirmed every now and then, claw lowering to rub carefully on his stomach. He grunted, a sudden sharp pain twinging in his side. He heard Wing whistle cautiously, and saw his partner begin to curl in on himself.  
“D-Drift-” he groaned. “I… I’m not feeling so well.” He whimpered.  
Drift gasped as another jolt stabbed his side, and he wrapped his wing around the other Kite to lay them both on the sea weed. They whined and clung to each other, bodies slowing and limbs becoming heavy. Drift fought to keep his eyes open, but darkness gradually crept into the corners of his vision.  
“Drift…” Wing whispered. His lips wobbled. “I’m scared.”  
Before Drift could reply, assurances died in his throat and he faded to black. Blank to the world. The two unconscious harpies lay still, breathing shallowly. Neither could realize that the wind was shifting, the tide rising steadily. Dark clouds grew where the sun once set, thunder rumbling in the distance.


End file.
